


How did the night ever get like this?

by FeralCreed



Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Alcoholism, Drinking, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/pseuds/FeralCreed
Summary: Clint shot Barney intending to kill, not knowing just who he was aiming for. Upon seeing his brother, however, he refused to leave his side even when it resulted in him being captured by the Feds. When he was told that his brother had died, he broke out and ran away, overcome with guilt. Swearing to never kill again thanks to what he'd done that night, he disappeared, unfound by friend or foe.Barney was just doing his job going undercover for the FBI. Somehow he woke up from a near-comatose state, and heard that his shooter left him immediately after the incident. He didn't betray his little brother to the cops but he didn't know why he kept quiet either. Released from the hospital with overwhelming physical and emotional pain, he took advantage of an offer for time off and went back to his apartment.This is what happens his first night back.





	

Former circus crook turned Army grunt turned FBI agent Barney Barton. _Quite a resume,_ Barney thought to himself, unscrewing the cap on the bottle of whiskey in his hand. _What's next, criminal gun for hire? Way to play both sides of the field._ For a second he eyed the collection of glasses and tumblers on top of the liquor cabinet he stood in front of before deciding it was a straight-from-the-bottle kind of night. He wandered back into the living room, standing in front of the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony as he brought the bottle to his lips. 

 

 _What kind of a spy do you make when you're off duty, huh?_ he mentally chided himself, but that didn't stop him from taking another drink in lieu of moving. _The kind that's too tired for your crap,_ the other half of his brain supplied. So what if some bored sniper tried to get rid of him. Maybe it'd be his brother finishing the job. As soon as Clint's face sprang to mind, the emotional pain intensified to something he would have sworn he could physically feel. 

 

Not like the Jameson wouldn't help with that. The doctor had told him not to drink or... there were five or six other things on the list, he was pretty sure, but all he remembered was a high-pitched buzzing in his brain. Like someone amplified a recording of tube lights and filled his head with it. Clint. Clint had tried to kill him. His baby brother with gaps in his smile and light in his eyes. Barney's fingers tightened around the bottle, and for a second it was a fifty-fifty chance whether he'd throw it at the wall or down as much of the bottle as he could. Both choices were wrong, but Barney went with the one that had the most numbing power. He shouldn't be doing this in combination with all the meds they'd put him on a the hospital, but... 

 

He dug his phone and wallet out of his pocket and tossed them onto the dining room table, frowning when his wallet toppled off the side due to his bad aim. Were his hands trembling or was the world shaking? Ah, didn't matter. One or two more bottles of whiskey and he'd either be too drunk to realise he was awake or actually asleep. Either one worked for him. Nobody in this building knew who he was, much less cared about him. Grip tightening around the bottle, he bent over to pick up his wallet, almost toppling over but steadying himself just in time. 

 

The old, torn corner of a photograph peeked at him and he tugged it out against his better judgement. He couldn't wholly remember why someone had taken a picture of them that morning - he was pretty sure it had had something to do with the photography club bribing them with food - but he still remembered the afternoon clearly. It had been a peaceful day for once, their parents out of town overnight. Their father hadn't bothered making arrangements for someone to deal with them, so the two had skipped school and spent the day playing on the roads and in the fields of nearby farms. Awful hot weather, nobody else around for miles, but it had been the highlight of the month for them. It had just been them, just Clint an' Barney 'gainst the whole darn world. 

 

_"Heya, Barney, watch this!" Six-year-old Clint waved his arms wildly above his head until he'd caught his older brother's attention before taking a running start down the dusty road. Eight-year-old Barney was briefly concerned that his brother was going to do something stupid, but his fears went unfounded as Clint managed to finally do two cartwheels in a row on his first try. It has been his dream for the last couple months, ever since he'd managed to do them one at a time. "Ya see that?"_

 

_"'Course I did, short stop." Barney ruffled his hair, ignoring the insulted 'you're only a year older than me!'  True that might be, but it was a year that made all the difference. And besides, he was three inches taller than his younger sibling. "Race ya home an' loser has to distract Mr Barnes so's the winner can swipe a piece of candy!"_

 

_"See ya there!" Clint bolted without waiting for Barney to count down from three to one, whooping as he ran. Barney gave the expected yell of protest before taking off after him. Even without the head start, Clint would have won. He'd always been fast, but at least Barney had the saving grace of being a little stronger than him. Together they made a good team, something even the Sunday School teacher admitted, despite only focusing on their criminal affairs._

 

_Where Clint stopped was a good half mile from their house, under an ancient oak tree that was a landmark for kids for miles around. He was sprawled out in its shade, chest heaving, by the time Barney caught up to him scant seconds later. The older Barton sat down next to him, shooting a hand out to ruffle his hair. "You're too fast," Barney complained, but he was grinning despite it. "All right, it's my turn to distract Old Man Barnes next time we go into town."_

 

_"I wanna get a chocolate bar," Clint declared. He sat up and scootched backward so their shoulders were pressing together as they leaned against the tree trunk. "That way we can share."_

 

_"Y'ain't half bad for a little brother," Barney conceded, and Clint's blinding grin was all the reward needed._

And yet Clint had tried to kill him. Had chosen a handful of carnie criminals over his own flesh and blood when they were teenagers, had never tried to find him after. Left Barney to do what he wanted until whatever hidden grudge he'd had came to the surface. Well, wasn't that just like a Barton. Smiles for the neighbours and screaming behind closed doors. Trust his sweet, innocent Clint to take after the monster just like his elder sibling had. Not for the first time, Barney wondered if there was truth to the fairy tales Clint had so loved as a child. Maybe their family had been cursed. For what other reason could the two of them have turned on each other so thoroughly? It shamed him to think it, but Barney knew he would have shot back if Clint had tried to finish him off. Hell of a man he made. 

 

"We've come a long way, lil' brother," Barney told his reflection, and wondered if his father would be proud of both of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Barney and it's kinda late for me so I'm not sure how well this will work out. Concrit, feedback, kudos, etc., all appreciated.


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